


Viper

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bondage, D/s undertones, Dark, Dirty Talk, Lots of Sex, M/M, Rimming, mention of past top!Harry - not with Draco, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort discovered that Harry was a Horcrux and won the war. Years later, Draco is Voldemort’s second-in-command, and Harry is part of the underground Order movement. His latest mission is to get close to Draco and infiltrate the Death Eater’s world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viper

**Author's Note:**

> Vaysh, this maybe isn’t quite what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you to E for the beta.

2nd May, 1998. That was the day that Voldemort won the Wizarding War. 

It didn’t happen at once, of course, but after the Battle of Hogwarts there was no way that Voldemort could lose. 

Harry had gone into the forest to die, accepting his fate as Voldemort’s unintended Horcrux. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten how skilled a Legilimens Voldemort was. Voldemort had looked right into Harry’s eyes and seen the truth, and in that moment the war was won. 

So long as Voldemort left Harry alive, then Voldemort couldn’t die. Even if Harry died by other means, the Horcrux would remain on forever in his decaying bones. There was no way to stop Voldemort now. 

From that point on, Voldemort raged his wrath on the Wizarding World, and Harry was helpless to do anything. All that he and the remaining Order members could do was try and stop attacks and save Voldemort’s targets, but with every fight came more casualties and fatalities. 

Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, only a handful of the original second branch of the Order remained. Rather than simply being an opposing force, they were now an underground resistance movement, determined to dismantle the world Voldemort had created. 

Being part of the movement was dangerous, and nearly all of them had a kill-on-sight to their name. The only exception to that was Harry. 

Rather than imprisoning Harry like he easily could have done, Voldemort seemed to find sick amusement in letting Harry free in the now twisted version of the Wizarding World. At first, Voldemort had been on to something; Harry had been close to suicidal at the start, overwhelmed by guilt. But now Harry was more motivated than ever, because even if he couldn’t _kill_ Voldemort, he could still try and save the world. 

As Harry was the only one in the Order who had any real freedom to go where he pleased - there were specific orders _not_ to cause any harm to him - he was the one who was given the most overt missions. 

Generally that tended to be doing something such as breaking into Azkaban to break out wrongly imprisoned ‘blood traitors’, or dramatically rescuing someone from a public execution. 

So when Harry was given his newest mission, he was very sure that he had been given the wrong one. 

“You want me to infiltrate _Malfoy’s_ nightclub?” Harry repeated, horrified, certain that Kingsley was playing a joke on him. Kingsley, however, didn’t look at all amused. 

Draco Malfoy had somehow gone from crying in the bathroom to being Voldemort’s second-hand man. While evidence suggested that Malfoy rarely actually killed anyone - he had mindless brutes to do that for him - Malfoy had started off replacing Snape as Voldemort’s potioneer, and he had obviously impressed the Dark Lord because Malfoy was now in charge of several of Voldemort’s operations. 

The main operation for Malfoy being the nightclub _Viper_ in Knockturn Alley, which he ran with the help of Blaise Zabini, while Pansy Parkinson handled the dancers and the brothel. It was one of Voldemort’s most successful institutions, providing him with a lot of gold, and a place to imprison his female captives - and men on the side, but the Death Eaters didn’t like to mention that. 

“We want you to get close to Malfoy,” Kingsley reiterated, while Hermione nodded in agreement at his side. “Learn his secrets, and if you can try and bring him over to our side. Dumbledore believed in him once, and that side of him will still exist deep down. Imagine the outcry if Voldemort’s second-in-command deflects. ” 

Harry gaped at Kingsley, letting out a humourless laugh. “This is _Malfoy_ we’re talking about,” Harry pointed out, as if they had somehow missed that detail. “He’s hated me for years! What makes you think he’d let _me_ get close to him?” 

Hermione cleared her throat, and when Harry turned to her he was perplexed to see that she had a blush on her face. 

“He may not like you, Harry,” Hermione said, “but he _likes_ you.” 

Harry stared at her, and Hermione sighed before continuing. 

“Malfoy is attracted to you, Harry.” Her blush had deepened, spreading across her face. “I think if you seduced him, he would fall for it.” 

It was Harry’s turn to splutter. “Seduce him? Are you asking me to sleep with Malfoy?” 

“No! No!” Hermione answered hastily, shaking her head furiously. “Unless you want to, I mean. But, er, even just acting like you’ll sleep with him at some point might work.” 

“I know this is an unusual mission, Harry,” Kingsley said in his soothing voice, which made all of Harry’s horror vanish in an instance. “But this could be a great opportunity for us.” 

Kingsley had a point. It wasn’t that Malfoy was unattractive or anything - quite the opposite, in fact - but it was just the fact it was _Malfoy_. Still, if Harry succeeded, it could save a lot of people and do wonders for the Order. 

He took a deep breath before he answered. “When am I starting?”

***

Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling trapped by the far too tight jeans that Ginny had dressed him in. They were tucked into biker boots that had once belonged to Sirius, and on top he wore a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Ginny had also given him strappy leather bracelets to wear on his wrists - he had to blend in, she said.

To be fair to Ginny, she did have a point. The witches and wizards queuing up on the streets of Knockturn Alley waiting to get into Viper reminded Harry of the goths that his Aunt Petunia used to steer him and Dudley away from when they were children. It was basically a mass of black, green, and lots and lots of leather. 

Despite blending in, however, all eyes seemed to be on him. He ignored the whispers as he bypassed the queue, heading straight to the front where Gregory Goyle was working as a bouncer on the door. 

“Is there free entry available for VIPs?” Harry asked loudly, allowing his voice to carry down the street. He hated playing on his fame, but sometimes it needed to be done. 

Goyle blinked at him slowly. “You’re not a VIP,” he finally said, looking down at a list on a piece of parchment. “Nobody wants you here anyway, Potter. Go away.” 

“Now, now, Goyle,” a smooth voice cut in, and moments later Zabini appeared by Goyle’s side. Dressed in a sharp black suit and with rings on his nose and lower lip, Zabini looked Harry up and down appraisingly. He seemed to approve of what he saw because he said, “come on in, Potter.” 

Harry had never actually been inside Viper before, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by what he saw. It was dark inside, lit only by smoky green lights overhead. The floor was made up of panels of wood painted black, running in a circle shape around a pit in the middle that had several steps leading down to it. The pit seemed to be the dance floor, and a large group of dancers had already congregated there, with most missing at least one item of clothing. 

The outer circle seemed to have been sound-proofed, although Harry could still hear a faint thumping of music. Dangling from the ceiling were several cages which had scantily clad women dancing inside; Harry gritted his teeth at the sight. The rest of the space was made up with leather seats and small tables, and a large bar that ran around most of wall. 

Zabini led Harry to an empty seat at the bar, and handed him a menu that was written in a curling font which Harry couldn’t quite decipher. 

“I recommend the green chartreuse,” Zabini said monotonously, taking the menu away from Harry before he even had chance to study it. “And be warned, Potter; we may not be allowed to hurt you, but there are plenty of people in here willing to take advantage of you.” 

With that ominous warning said, Zabini took that as his cue to leave. Harry wasn’t worried though, he could handle anyone who thought that he was theirs for the taking. 

Harry ordered the chartreuse, and barely managed to hold back the shudder at the bitter, herby taste. It was far stronger than the Firewhiskey he was used to, and he decided to nurse it rather than downing it and moving on to another - he needed to keep his wits about him while he kept his eyes peeled for Malfoy. 

He wondered if Hermione was right about Malfoy finding him attractive, because rather than having to find Malfoy, Malfoy found him. 

“A lightweight, are we, Potter?” Malfoy’s familiar voice drawled behind him. 

Harry turned to face him, and his breath got caught in his throat. Malfoy looked...mind-blowing. His bright blond hair had been closely shaved at the sides, but was longer, thick, and luxurious at the top. His robe sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and the robe itself had been left open, revealing an incredibly toned stomach which had a tattoo of a snake on it, curling over his abs and with the tail dipping below the waistband of Malfoy’s trousers. And Merlin, those trousers! They were tight fitting leather, and the outline of his - admittedly very lovely looking - cock was clearly visible. Malfoy’s forearm which didn’t hold the Dark Mark was covered in a black and white flower sleeve tattoo. His grey eyes were enhanced by thick kohl lining them, and one of his ears was stretched with a black plug inside, while the other had a metal snake curling around it. 

“Like what you see?” 

Malfoy’s amused voice drew Harry out of his reverie, and he realised that he had been staring. He hastily took another drink. 

“I just didn’t expect you to look like...that,” Harry explained, and it was partly true. It wasn’t like Malfoy outright needed to know that, yes, Harry did find him very attractive. 

“I could say the same to you, Potter,” Malfoy countered, looking Harry up and down, and smirking in a way that really should have been illegal. “What’s the prophesied Golden Boy doing in the snake pit?” 

Harry purposefully swirled his drink around in his glass. The Order had given him a story to stick to which would explain his presence in the club, but it was up to him to make it look believable. 

“The Order is close to disbanding,” Harry lied easily. “They’ve given up hope.” 

“The horror,” Malfoy said mockingly. “So you’ve come to drown your sorrows in the one place they’ll never think to look for you?” 

“Something like that,” Harry mumbled into his glass, downing the rest of his drink and instantly regretting it as his throat burned. “Now talking of the snake pit, I’m going to _the_ pit to dance.” 

He had no intention of actually dancing, but he wanted Malfoy to reach out for him to stop him going. That way Malfoy would think he had control over the situation. 

Harry only had time to slide off the barstool before Malfoy’s hand touched his forearm. The contact left Harry’s skin feeling pleasantly warm, and for a fleeting second Harry wondered how it would feel to have Malfoy’s hands on the rest of his body. 

“Let me buy you a drink first, Potter,” Malfoy said, beckoning the barkeeper with two fingers. “It would be rude if I, as the owner of this fine establishment, didn’t give such an important guest special treatment.” His voice was dripping in sarcasm, but Harry could tell it wasn’t meant to be entirely mocking. 

“I don’t know, Malfoy,” Harry retorted, closing his fingers around the cold glass the barkeeper slid over to him, filled with the bright green chartreuse that seemed so popular in the club. “Zabini warned me that people may be _dying_ to take advantage of me.” 

Malfoy laughed, and Harry was mesmerised by the way his Adam’s Apple moved with the sound. 

“The only way you’d be taken advantage of is if you allowed it,” Malfoy smirked, and his warm hand slid onto Harry’s thigh. 

Harry was surprised that Malfoy couldn’t hear the beating of his heart as it thundered against his chest. Merlin, Malfoy shouldn’t be having this effect on him, but God, Harry wanted him. Hermione had said sleeping with Malfoy was optional, but, as well as really wanting to, sleeping with Malfoy would certainly give Harry a closeness to Malfoy’s personal life that might be difficult to achieve otherwise. 

“Careful, Malfoy,” Harry said lowly, taking hold of Malfoy’s hand and guiding it up his thigh before moving it away. “You don’t want people thinking that the owner of this fine establishment is soliciting with an Order member.” 

“What do you say we get out of here then?” Malfoy raised a brow, dropping his gaze to watch as Harry brushed his tongue against his lower lip. Hermione had been spot-on when she said that Malfoy was attracted to Harry, but Harry hadn’t suspected it would be this much - or maybe Malfoy just wanted the glory for making Harry his for the night. 

“Sounds good,” Harry agreed, sliding off his seat once again. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He had taken several steps before he felt Malfoy behind him, and suddenly Harry was yanked backwards as Malfoy took hold of his studded silver belt and pulled him flush against him. 

Feeling Malfoy’s rock hard cock pressing against him had Harry erect in an instant. 

“I think we’ve both had enough of games, Potter,” Malfoy hissed into Harry’s ear, trailing his tongue around the edge as his hands wound around Harry’s waist, pressing against the lowest point of his stomach. “Now how about we go somewhere private so I can fuck you.” 

For some reason, Harry had presumed that he would be the one going on top. Though he preferred bottoming, most of the men he had slept with had wanted Harry to top because of the whole ‘hero’ image he supposedly had going on. For that reason, he had had a rather lacklustre sex life, but hearing Malfoy’s dominating tone now had Harry willing to bend over the bar and let Malfoy have him there and then. 

Thankfully, Harry was much more controlled than that, and instead he settled for grinding his arse against Malfoy’s body, and was rewarded with a satisfied moan. 

“Take me back to your place?,” Harry suggested, trying to make himself sound a bit nervous rather than being desperate to see where Malfoy lived. 

There were a few seconds of the familiar feeling of Apparition, and then he and Malfoy were alone in a large bedroom decorated in blacks and various shades of green. The wooden poles of the four poster bed were carved like snakes, and the bed faced a wall made up of a large mirror. 

“Nice mirror,” Harry commented, sweeping the room for anything that looked Dark or dangerous. “Always knew you had a hard on for yourself.” 

One corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitched upwards, and then he pushed Harry rather roughly onto the bed. 

Harry automatically spread his hands out, saving him from falling backwards. Malfoy was between Harry’s legs almost instantly, taking hold of Harry’s chin and tipping it upwards so that he could kiss him hard. 

Harry was slightly ashamed of his next move, which was basically to swoon against Malfoy. If Malfoy could fuck as well as he could kiss then Harry would be in for a very fun night; he could hardly believe he had doubted the mission at first! 

Malfoy’s lips trailed down Harry’s neck while his fingers worked the buttons on Harry’s shirt quickly, and he tore it off as soon as he could, tossing the material to the floor. 

Harry moaned as Malfoy bit down on his skin, while warm fingers pinched his nipples and trailed down to trace circles on his stomach. 

“Lift your hips up,” Malfoy said fiercely, and Harry readily complied, kicking off his boots and helping Malfoy slide his trousers and pants down. 

Harry shivered as Malfoy’s warm hands eagerly squeezed his thighs, spreading his fingers across the skin. 

“Beg me to fuck you, Potter,” Malfoy hissed into Harry’s neck, trailing his tongue across Harry’s collarbone as he awaited Harry’s obedient response. 

“What? No!” Harry said before he could help himself, and Malfoy bit down extra hard in response. 

“I won’t fuck you until you do,” Malfoy retorted matter-of-factly, digging his nails into Harry’s thighs which made Harry arch up in response. 

Begging was so….not Harry. But for some reason, Malfoy made Harry _want_ to do it; maybe it was because of his recent consumption of chartreuse. 

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry hissed, throwing his head back; Malfoy took advantage and sucked at the exposed skin. “God, please just fuck me.” 

“You can do better than that, I think,” Malfoy drawled, and Harry nearly saw stars when those long fingers wrapped around his achingly hard cock. 

“Come on and fuck me, you asshole,” Harry breathed, trying to buck up into Malfoy’s fist, “I want to feel your cock inside me; your lovely, massive cock.” 

“Much better,” Malfoy accepted, stepping back from Harry and studying him with lustful eyes. “What would your friends think, Golden Boy? To see you be such a slut for me? Get on your hands and knees on the bed, facing the mirror.” 

Harry found himself unable to meet his reflection’s eyes when he got into position, ashamed at how turned on and needy he was for Malfoy. 

The bed dipped as Malfoy knelt behind Harry. Malfoy’s hands ran over Harry’s arse cheeks, spreading them open, and from the reflection Harry could see Malfoy looking at his hole hungrily. 

Harry bit down on his lip as a slick finger pushed inside him, swiftly followed by another. 

“Look at you clenching down on my fingers,” Malfoy murmured, still not taking his eyes off Harry’s arse. “You were made to be fucked, weren’t you? You little slut.” 

Nobody had ever spoken to Harry like that before, and he wondered why not. Harry would happily be a slut for somebody who fingered him with the same skill that Malfoy showed; rough and fast, and teasing his prostate continuously. 

“D-do you,” Harry started to say, not realising how breathless he was until then, “do you plan on fucking me with those trousers on?” 

“I don’t have time to take them off,” Malfoy murmured, but he undid his zipper and freed his cock from its confines, and Harry had never been so happy to be right; Malfoy was hung like a beast. “You ready for this, Potter?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed, bracing himself while Malfoy wanked his cock slowly, spreading lubricant over the length. “Fuck!” he hissed again as he felt the blunt head of Malfoy’s cock press against his rim, stretching him open as it pushed in. 

Harry watched Malfoy in the mirror, who was staring down as his cock pushed deeper and deeper inside Harry. 

“Salazar, you’re tight,” Malfoy muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” 

Harry had never seen Malfoy lose control before. “So are you going to fuck me like the slut you say I am, or was that all talk?” 

Malfoy’s grey eyes snapped open and his gaze landed on Harry’s reflected ones. 

“If you insist,” Malfoy smirked, pulling out of Harry and slamming back in hard. 

That set the pace then, with Malfoy driving into Harry with a massive intensity, hitting his prostate on nearly every thrust. When Harry’s arms gave way and he collapsed onto his chest, Malfoy’s arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him back up, pulling them flush together. Malfoy’s free hand reached round to jerk Harry’s cock in time with the thrusts; Harry had never been so thoroughly fucked, and he was loving every second of it. 

He was mesmerised watching their reflection, loving the way that Malfoy’ abs flexed each time he moved his hips. Harry’s cheeks were flushed red and his fringe was sticking to his forehead, and Malfoy was in a similar state. 

Harry came first, spilling his release over Malfoy’s fingers and clenching his arse around on Malfoy’s cock, and it took only seconds for Malfoy to reach his own release, filling Harry with his seed. 

Malfoy’s arms released Harry at last and he slumped forwards, breathless, and Malfoy collapsed on top of him. The heavy weight was comforting, despite the stickiness between them both, and Harry had no intention of moving. 

“Am I allowed to stay the night?” Harry asked after several blissful minutes passed, “or are you a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em type?” 

“Usually the latter,” Malfoy answered thoughtfully, “but where you’re concerned, Potter, well, I’d love to see you do the walk of shame.” 

Malfoy’s reasoning didn’t matter to Harry; all he wanted was a way to snoop around Malfoy’s flat.

***

There was a moment when Harry woke up the following morning that he didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing there.

Then memories of the night before came back to him, and his face flushed warmly in response. 

“I’m not going to make you breakfast before you get any ideas,” Malfoy’s voice said above his ear, warm breath blowing onto Harry’s skin. “I’m going for a shower, and I’d prefer it if you were gone by the time I got back.” 

“Not very hospitable for an aristocrat,” Harry murmured into the sheets. He yelped when a sharp slap landed on his arse. 

“Careful, Potter, or I’ll bend you over my knee for a spanking,” Malfoy drawled, sliding out of the bed. “Though if last night was anything to go by, you’d probably enjoy that.” 

Harry gave him the finger, and Malfoy rolled his eyes before leaving for the shower. 

Harry waited for the sound of water running before he got out of bed, dressing as quickly as he could. There wasn’t actually much in the room to examine: a bed, a wardrobe, a set of drawers, an armchair, and a fireplace. However, Harry wanted to see as much as he could before Malfoy got back. 

He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for; he doubted that Malfoy would leave copies of Voldemort’s plans laying around, but Harry was curious nonetheless. 

Needless to say, Harry turned everything over and nothing obvious came up in his search. He didn’t have time to open up all the nooks and crannies, though, so it wasn’t to say that Malfoy wasn’t hiding _anything_. 

Only when he got to Malfoy’s jewellery did Harry notice something unusual. Each piece of jewellery seemed to be thrumming slightly, as if each piece was imbued with magic. The way that felt reminded Harry of Horcruxes, though not as Dark; though perhaps they had felt Darker because of the Darkness in Voldemort’s soul. 

One ring in particular caught Harry’s attention. It was made from silver, and, like the rest of Malfoy’s stuff, was shaped like a snake. Harry fought the urge to try it on, remembering what had happened to Dumbledore when he had tried a mysterious ring on. 

It was only when Harry placed the ring back down that he noticed the water had stopped running. 

“Find anything you like?” Malfoy’s voice came from the doorway. 

Harry turned, and his words got lost in his throat. Malfoy was still dripping wet, with nothing on but a flimsy towel tied around his waist. It allowed Harry to see that his tattoo sleeve extended up his left arm, and on the top of the right one was a vivid green dragon tattoo. 

“I,” Harry started, mind whirring with ideas that had nothing to do with an excuse and more to do with Malfoy’s body. “I really like your jewellery collection,” Harry finally settled on. “The piercings, especially. I was always curious about getting one myself, but I decided they were too Death Eater-y for me.” 

Malfoy stared at Harry for a moment, then he smirked. “You should get one,” he said casually, taking Harry by surprise. The night before he had been so dominating and snarky, and now he was talking as if they were acquaintances. Still, that could be used to Harry’s advantage. “I do piercings and tattoos for people; from you I’d be glad to take _alternative_ methods of payment.” 

Harry made himself look away in an effort to look shy. “Maybe,” he murmured softly. He then looked up again and lifted his voice. “I’d like to see you again. Not as a boyfriend or anything, Merlin, no,” he added hastily at the horrified look on Malfoy’s face - and Malfoy might be a good fuck but he was still Death Eater scum and not boyfriend material at all. “But you fuck like a god.” 

Malfoy was vain, Harry knew, and flattery would get Harry places. 

Malfoy took the bait with ease. “If you think you can handle me, Potter.” 

Harry turned his chin up, copying Malfoy’s favoured smirk. “I’m not scared of you, Malfoy. All I can say is bring it on.”

***

“So you’ve got a place in Malfoy’s world already?” Kingsley asked, and he sounded so astonished that Harry wondered whether or not he should be offended. “How did you manage that so fast?”

Harry shrugged, and made an “eh,” noise. He blushed bright red when Hermione’s eyes studied him intently. 

“You slept together?” she queried bluntly. Harry didn’t miss the way Kingsley very briefly averted his gaze. 

“Er, yes,” Harry muttered, shrugging again. “It’s just that, you know, Malfoy isn’t into romance and harmless flirting. Sleeping together was direct and got Malfoy’s attention.” 

Hermione smirked, and Harry rolled his eyes at her. 

“He’s still Death Eater trash,” he added. “It was purely physical.” 

“Obviously,” Hermione retorted, as though it was perfectly normal to be attracted to people who were evil. 

“What’s your next move, Harry?” Kingsley asked after clearing his throat. 

“Malfoy’s invited me to Viper again,” Harry said, summarising the letter he had received from Malfoy earlier that day. “He wants to take me to the back of the club.” 

“And you’re sure he’s not caught on to you?” Kingsley asked seriously. “Or is there a possibility that Voldemort has decided to imprison you after all and this is a trap?” 

“There’s no reason for Malfoy to have cottoned on; just because we slept together doesn’t mean that I acted like I didn’t hate him,” Harry stated. “And even if Malfoy is second to Voldemort, I doubt Voldemort trusts anyone other than himself to bring me in. I can handle myself if it’s a trap.” 

Harry then dove into an explanation of the strange vibes coming off the jewellery, and Hermione promised to research that. And while Hermione was talking, Harry really couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he was quite looking forward to seeing what the night had in offer for him.

***

Goyle stared blankly at Harry when Harry pushed past him and strode straight into the club, bypassing the queue.

Malfoy was waiting at the bar with a glass of chartreuse in his hand. Pansy Parkinson was standing beside him, with green streaks in her short black hair and a ring piercing her septum. Her leather dress was ridiculously short, and Harry felt a brief but insane moment of jealousy as Malfoy lowered his head so that he could whisper something into Parkinson’s ear. 

Harry only realised he had been staring when Malfoy’s eyes snapped to his. He beckoned Harry towards him with a finger - and Merlin, was Harry some sort of dog? Yet he went to Malfoy obediently anyway. 

Parkinson was shooed by Malfoy, and she purposely brushed against Harry as she strutted past him. 

“Always knew you were a little slut, Potter,” she sneered, looking him up and down distastefully. Her attention was quickly diverted, however, by an elderly man getting too handsy with one of the scantily clad waitresses. “Oi, keep your hands to yourself or else you’ll be losing them!” 

Harry shuddered at Parkinson’s words before heading towards Malfoy, who was wearing a similar outfit to the night before but - somehow - in even tighter leather trousers. 

“About time you got here, Potter,” Malfoy greeted, tipping back the rest of his drink. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your arse.” 

Harry tried hard to hide his smile, and allowed his gaze to drop to the hard outline of Malfoy’s cock. 

Harry was pleased to note that Malfoy’s cheeks had a pale pink tinge to them. 

“Let me take you to the back,” Malfoy said, gesturing for Harry to follow him. 

“Is that some kind of euphemism?” Harry retorted, eyes widening when Malfoy’s hand settled on Harry’s lower back while they walked side-by-side. 

“If you want it to be,” Malfoy shot back, raising an eyebrow leeringly. 

The back of the club was an extravagant lounge, with silver accents to the green and black colour scheme. Zabini was sitting relaxed in one of the armchairs while a naked woman knelt in front of him, sucking his cock. Harry quickly averted his gaze, but Malfoy sneered at his friend. 

“Is she too ugly to fuck?” Malfoy mocked, and the woman tensed. Zabini pressed down on her head to keep her going. 

“Half-blood,” Zabini said as if that was a valid enough reason. “ _I_ , unlike you, don’t want to sully myself with someone so dirty.” 

“Potter’s the Golden Boy,” Malfoy countered, smacking Harry’s arse to prove his point. “Having his arse is an honour.” 

Harry didn’t miss the sarcastic tone. “Or maybe I’m the only one stupid enough to sleep with someone as big a dickhead as you.” 

Zabini grinned. “Kitty’s got claws,” he sneered. “No wonder Draco’s so hard for you.” 

Malfoy’s hand gripped the top of Harry’s arm hard. “Now if you don’t mind, Blaise, I intend to fuck Potter over my desk, so when you’re finished I’d appreciate it if you left.” 

And with that said, Malfoy pulled Harry into a room connected to the lounge. 

“Zabini’s not going to leave, you know,” Harry pointed out, and Malfoy smirked at him. 

“He will, but he’ll come back with a group,” Malfoy said, shrugging off his jacket. “I want to see how quiet you can be, Potter.” 

“You really think I’ll let you fuck me here without a Silencing Charm up?” Harry stated plainly, eyeing Malfoy with disbelief. “You haven’t even bought me a drink this time.” 

Really, Harry couldn’t give a damn about whether or not Malfoy romanced him a bit before kinky sex, but he wasn’t going to waste his time fucking. There was a high chance Malfoy wouldn’t let Harry stay in his office afterwards, and Harry wanted a bit of time to look around. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Summoned a house-elf and ordered them some chartreuse. 

While Malfoy was distracted by bullying the whimpering elf, Harry took the moment to quickly sweep the office. There was nothing that gave anything anyway - Malfoy and Voldemort were not careless - and it was nothing more than a standard office, with a desk and chair, and a bookshelf lining the back wall. 

The one thing Harry did notice that was out of the ordinary was that on the desk there was a framed photograph of a glaring Voldemort. 

“That’s…” Harry commented slowly, shuddering, “disturbing.” 

Malfoy shrugged, a grim expression on his face. He strode over to the desk and placed the photo frame flat. “I didn’t put it there. The Dark Lord likes to constantly remind his followers who they’re serving.” 

“So you’re his loyal follower, then?” Harry retorted, licking his lips as Malfoy leaned his back against the edge of his desk, resting his hands on it at each side. “I thought you were his second-in-command. I suppose he’ll never share his glory though, will he?” 

“I have glory,” Malfoy hissed, and Harry knew he had struck a nerve. Maybe even after all these years, there truly was hope for Malfoy - even if it was simply because Malfoy was too proud and desperate to show off. “I follow because I am grateful for what the Dark Lord has given us. I may not enjoy following, but I do it. And I, unlike you, don’t get turned on from being bossed about and pushed around.” 

“But you do get turned on from being the one to boss people about and push them around,” Harry pointed out with a sly grin. 

Malfoy smirked, surging forwards and grabbing Harry’s wrists. He pulled Harry until his body hit the desk, and bent him over it. Harry could feel Malfoy’s hard length pressing against his arse, and though Harry’s own cock was rapidly growing hard in response, he could feel very minor magical vibrations through the wood of the desk, seemingly stemming from the upturned photo frame. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, because his trousers and underwear were roughly pulled down in one swift movement, and a sharp slap landed on his arse. Malfoy’s hands groped Harry’s cheeks, spreading them apart. 

Harry unwilling let out a very unmanly sound when Malfoy spat on his hole. He dropped his forehead to the desk, cheeks burning when Malfoy’s thumb pushed at his entrance, spreading the saliva around the rim. Harry only lifted his head when the Dark magic in the desk started to make his scar feel tingly. He would really need to sneak in at some point to investigate, but Harry really didn’t have the ability to focus on that in the moment. 

Harry bit down on his lip when Malfoy’s thumb pushed inside him, soon followed by two slicked-up fingers which moved in and out of Harry fast and carelessly, as though Malfoy couldn’t wait to fuck him; he probably couldn’t. 

Harry heard movement behind him as Malfoy shuffled his trousers down just far enough to free his erection. 

“Cast a fucking Silencing Charm,” Harry hissed, shutting his eyes as Malfoy’s spread his cheeks again. 

“No,” Malfoy muttered, rubbing his cock in the crease of Harry’s arse. “I want to drive you insane while you desperately try to be quiet; unless, of course, you want Blaise to know how slutty you are.” 

Harry opened his eyes and folded his arm under his face, pressing his mouth against it, because as Malfoy started to press his cock inside Harry, Harry didn’t think he’d be able to keep his mouth shut. 

He moaned into his arm as Malfoy began fucking him hard, his balls slapping hard against Harry’s thighs. 

Harry’s arse stung a bit from the hasty preparation, and the desk edge was digging uncomfortably into his stomach, but that didn’t stop Harry from enjoying himself, or from grinding himself against Malfoy; partly to make it difficult for Malfoy to stay quiet, too, but mostly because Harry wanted to. 

Harry let out an intake of breath when Malfoy’s hand wound in his hair and yanked his head backwards - and away from Harry’s makeshift gag. Somehow, while using Harry’s hair as leverage, Malfoy began thrusting into Harry even harder, and it was all Harry could do to not moan loudly and beg for Malfoy to never stop; his lip was going to be sore for days for how hard he was biting down on it. 

Malfoy seemed to have less control than Harry, though he managed to keep his voice low. 

“Come on, Potter,” Malfoy uttered, tugging Harry’s hair sharply, “take my cock like a good little slut. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Malfoy spat on his free hand and reached around Harry to grip his neglected cock, jerking it roughly in time with his thrusts. 

It took only moments for Harry’s control to break, and he let out a loud and long stream of “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he came over Malfoy’s fingers. Though Harry couldn’t see Malfoy’s face, he could almost feel the satisfied smirk that he was sure was on it. 

Malfoy collapsed forwards suddenly, pressing Harry’s body into the desk and biting down hard on his shoulder as he tensed and spilled his release inside Harry. 

“You fucking cheater,” Harry murmured lightly, closing his eyes for a moment as Malfoy’s warm tongue lapped at the spot where Malfoy had bitten him. 

“I’m a snake, Potter,” Malfoy retorted, pulling out of Harry and standing back to full height. Before Harry could follow suit, two of Malfoy’s fingers pushed back into his used, sensitive hole, withdrawing just as suddenly. “A deadly, venomous snake. Get up.” 

Harry did so, pulling his trousers back up in the process. When he turned around to face Malfoy, the man was holding his hand in front of his face, with the two fingers sticking up coated in come. 

Harry barely had time to take in the image before those fingers were at his lips, pushing into his mouth. 

“Lick me clean, Potter,” Malfoy said, smirking as Harry glared at him. 

Malfoy’s fingers were sticky and salty, yet Harry licked them clean anyway, swirling his tongue around the digits. When Harry was done, Malfoy pulled his fingers back and wiped them on Harry’s cheek. 

Yes, Malfoy was a snake. But what Malfoy didn’t know was that so was Harry.

***

Getting into Viper during the day was easy enough.

It tended to run as a brothel during the day, and Harry crept in underneath his Invisibility Cloak, following a rather rat-like middle-aged man. But while getting into the club itself was easy, getting to the back room and offices would be harder. 

Goyle was standing outside the door to the lounge on the left, and on the right stood an unknown man who was even larger than Goyle. Though Goyle was rather dense, even he would notice a door being opened behind him, and Harry didn’t know how powerful the other guard was. Harry would simply have to wait for someone to go into or leave through the door, giving Harry an opportunity to slip through the gap. 

While he waited, it gave him time to study the club while the lights weren’t so dark and there weren’t so many people. 

Most of the current clientele seemed to be men over the age of forty, and Harry felt pity towards the scantily clad women - some of whom were dancing, and others cleaning or waitressing - as the men leered at them. Every so often coins were exchanged and one of the women would be led to another door leading upstairs, arm-in-arm with a man. Harry found the whole thing disgraceful, even more so when he saw Parkinson sitting at the bar, drinking and laughing, and ignoring the way ‘her girls,’ as she called them, were treated. 

Harry’s eyes flickered to the front door when it creaked open, and a man walked in, nude but for a leather loincloth around his waist and a collar around his neck. He had a tattoo of some kind on his chest, but Harry couldn't quite make out the design. 

The man strode straight towards Parkinson and dropped to his knees in front of her. Parkinson produced a leash and attached it to the man’s collar, before guiding him and making him crawl in the direction of the door Harry was waiting in front of. 

Goyle nodded at Parkinson, opening the door for her and her companion, and Harry quickly darted through the gap, resting against the wall as Parkinson continued through to another room. 

Harry waited by the wall for a few minutes, and when he heard disgusting moaning noises coming from Parkinson’s room, Harry knew that she would be sufficiently distracted. He crossed over to the office Malfoy had taken him to before, and pressed his ear against the wood. 

When he was confident that he couldn’t hear the noise of a scratching quill, a newspaper page being turned, or any other sound of life, Harry opened the door just enough that he could slide his body through, and shut it quietly behind him. 

The photograph of Voldemort was back in its place, and Harry suppressed a shudder as Voldemort’s red eyes fixed on him. The snake-like tongue flicked in and out of the photographic mouth hungrily, prompting Harry to scowl at it. 

Tugging his sleeves down over his fingers, just in case it was cursed, Harry went to try and move the photo frame but found that he couldn’t. The most he could do was place it face down like Malfoy had done the day before, but otherwise it was stuck in place. 

Dark magic was flowing off the photo frame in waves. Harry knew what it felt like to be hit by Dark magic, and the way the magic felt now was more like a lingering shadow than a curse. It was perhaps linked to the way the photo frame was impossible to move; Voldemort wanted his followers to remember him always. 

Harry sent a quick text to Hermione on the Muggle phone that the Order used. It was quite genius, really, using Muggle methods - it had been Hermione’s idea. Patronus messages could be intercepted, or there could be other ways to limit magical communication, however Death Eaters didn’t bother to learn about Muggle methods so using a mobile phone had become an incredibly effective communication method. 

Harry had a quick browse at the bookshelf, but it only had standard Dark magic books in it, none of which seemed to suggest they had to do with something more sinister such as Horcruxes. 

He moved to the other side of the desk where there were two drawers; one on either side of the chair. The first drawer refused to open and sent a jolt of pain through Harry’s fingers when he touched it. 

Harry almost wished the second drawer had hurt him as well. It opened easily enough, revealing a small vial of lubricant, a dildo - still wrapped in plastic - and a photograph of Harry that had some rather suspicious looking stains on it; Harry didn’t know whether to feel violated or flattered. 

Just as Harry was preparing to magically unlock the first drawer, he heard the door handle rattle. Harry was on the floor in an instant, crouching in the gap for the chair and hidden by the rest of the desk. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself, holding his breath as he tried to decide whether to hide or fight. 

“I know you’re in here,” came Malfoy’s voice, which made up Harry’s mind as to what to do; he had prepared for the eventuality that Malfoy might catch him. “I hope you know, whoever you are, that if you come clean now then your torture may not last as long.” 

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and squashed it into his pocket - thank goodness for Extension Charms. He tried to position himself comfortably on his knees, waiting as he heard Malfoy’s footsteps approach the desk. 

Harry had his wand ready, just in case Malfoy tried to hex him. Thankfully, Malfoy wasn’t as impulsive as Harry. 

Malfoy’s hand slammed on top of the desk, and then he was bent over, peering down at Harry as he aimed his wand at him. Malfoy blinked in surprise several times, and his grip on his wand slackened. 

“Potter?” Malfoy said sharply, his gaze flickering to the locked drawer beside him. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t lying about the torture, you know.” 

“Have a seat, Malfoy,” Harry said, nodding at the chair in front of him. Malfoy eyed him warily but complied, keeping his wand trained on Harry; Harry put his own away. 

“You better have a good explanation, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, looking down at him impatiently. “I have a set of shackles in my dungeon just waiting for use, but then again, I suppose you’d enjoy that. Oh, and your first answer better be a good one or else there’s a very good chance you _will_ end up in shackles tonight.” 

Harry lowered his head, feigning submission. Harry knew that Malfoy liked to feel important and be treated like he was the best. Harry had already known that should he be caught, he would turn the situation round to be all about Malfoy. 

“I- I think you’ve cast a spell on me,” Harry answered slowly, raising his gaze to meet Malfoy’s steely grey one. “It’s the sort of thing you’d do, and you must have done it because I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

That last part was true, as well. As much as Harry hated Malfoy for being a Death Eater, and for his pompous, arrogant attitude, Harry didn’t really _hate_ him. He made Harry feel passionate and alive, and Harry found himself missing that spark whenever he was away from Malfoy. Plus he fucked like an absolute star. 

Harry lowered his head again, pressing his face against Malfoy’s crotch. He was wearing black woolen trousers today rather than leather, and the material was soft against Harry’s skin. 

“Mainly I can’t stop thinking about your cock,” Harry continued, flicking his tongue over the outline of Malfoy’s rapidly hardening cock. “All I can think about is how great you feel inside me, fucking me with that huge cock of yours, and treating me like the little slut I am.” Malfoy’s fingers curled in Harry’s hair, and Harry knew his plan was working. He moved his tongue again, tracing Malfoy’s cock from top to bottom. “I came here hoping that you were in so that you could fuck me. I’ve tried using my fingers but it’s nothing compared to you.” 

“I have a meeting in five minutes,” Malfoy said somewhat breathlessly, “however you are in the perfect position to suck my cock. I think you know that, too; look how needy you are. If you’re quick about it, Potter, I’ll finish you off as well, otherwise you’ll have to sort yourself out.” 

With that said, Malfoy unbuttoned his trousers and freed his erection, already slick with pre-come. 

Harry had never actually seen Malfoy’s cock up-close, but it was every bit as big as it felt; average in length, but deliciously thick. But there was one thing Harry hadn’t known. 

“You’re pierced?” he asked, swallowing thickly. The head of Malfoy’s cock had a ring through it, from the top at his slit and round to the side. “Is it new?” Harry was pretty sure he would have felt it if Malfoy had fucked him with the piercing. 

Malfoy smirked and shook his head. “You’ve only ever seen me in leathers, and the piercing gets very uncomfortable under such tight clothing. Now get to it, Potter; time is ticking. And just in case you think of biting me, I’m going to give myself a bit of leverage.” 

Malfoy murmured a spell, which pulled Harry’s arms behind his back and bound his wrists together with ropes. 

“Dickhead,” Harry muttered, straining helplessly against the ropes. Malfoy smirked again, and pressed Harry’s head down, forcing him to take Malfoy’s cock in his mouth. 

Harry’s mouth felt full to the brim as he swallowed Malfoy down. He ignored the way the piercing rubbed at the back of his throat, instead focusing on sucking Malfoy’s cock and dragging his tongue up the length. 

“That’s right, Potter; just like that,” Malfoy breathed, pulling Harry’s hair so hard that Harry winced. 

Harry hollowed his cheeks, increasing the suction. Part of him wanted to make Malfoy finish quickly so that Harry could quell his own aching erection, but the other part of him really enjoyed sucking cock and made him want to take his time. He loved the heavy weight of cock on his tongue, and the bitter, salty taste. 

He pressed himself as far down as he could. The piercing clanged against his teeth and he pulled back a bit, but Malfoy didn’t seem to mind, moaning for Harry to keep going. 

“Almost there, Potter,” Malfoy urged, tugging back and forth on Harry’s hair to guide his movements. “Fuck, I’m close. You’re so good at sucking cock; you really are a little cock slut. I bet you’re gagging for it, oh, fuck yeah, Potter, I’m coming; swallow my come and don’t miss a drop or you’ll pay.” 

Harry coughed as Malfoy’s bitter seed filled his mouth, but he swallowed it eagerly, licking his lips clean as Malfoy pulled out. 

Malfoy gripped Harry’s arms and pulled him up, standing so that he was pushing Harry against the desk. He ran his thumb over Harry’s lower lip, before leaning in to kiss him. Malfoy bit down on the spot where his thumb had just been, sucking on the sore spot before pulling back and spinning Harry around. 

For the second time in two days, Harry found himself bent over the desk with his trousers pulled down so that his arse was bare. 

“You better come fast, Potter, or else I’m going to leave you like this,” Malfoy muttered, and before Harry could respond Malfoy had dropped to his knees and spread Harry’s cheeks. 

“Holy fuck!” Harry shouted as Malfoy’s hot tongue swiped over his hole. Nobody had ever rimmed him before, and he wondered why the hell not; one little movement and Harry’s knees were already shaking. 

Harry moaned helplessly as Malfoy tongue traced his rim, and when the slick muscle pushed inside him Harry felt like he was seeing stars. Malfoy fucked him with his tongue for a few moments, and it ended far too quickly for Harry’s liking. 

“Be a good boy and I’ll fuck you with my tongue nice and long, next time,” Malfoy hissed, getting to his feet again and opening the drawer on his right - the one with the lubricant and dildo in it. 

Harry heard the rustling of plastic and knew what was coming, but he tried not to let it show. 

But even knowing what was coming didn’t stop him exclaiming “fuck!” when the blunt head of the dildo pressed against his entrance. 

Malfoy had lubed it well, and it slid inside Harry with ease - he was still stretched from the fucking the day before. 

“I’m not going to touch your cock, Potter,” Malfoy said conversationally as he began a fast and frantic rhythm with the dildo. “You’re going to come just from being fucked with a toy. You should see the way your arse is clenching around it. Two minutes, Potter; think you can make it?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Harry breathed as Malfoy slammed the dildo against his prostate. “Next time we fuck can you - fuck - can you fuck me with your piercing in?” 

Harry moaned loudly as Malfoy thrust the dildo extra hard in response. 

“I will do, and you’re going to love it, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, pressing a hand against Harry’s lower back as he continued to pound his arse with the dildo. “Now hurry up and come.” 

It took Harry an embarrassingly short time to finish considering Malfoy hadn’t even touched his cock. 

“I won’t be around for a couple of days,” Malfoy said, grabbing Harry’s still-bound wrists to pull him into a standing position. “I want you to fuck yourself with this dildo every time you crave my cock, and I expect you to show me the memories when we meet next. I’ll send you a letter.” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Harry asked sharply as Malfoy cast a Cleansing Charm on himself, looking like he was preparing to Apparate. He shook his arms which were still tied behind his back. 

“No,” Malfoy answered. “You broke into my office, Potter; you’re not getting off that easily.” 

Then he Apparated, and Harry was left bound, sticky with come, and with his trousers around his thighs. 

Malfoy may have a big dick, but he was also the world’s _biggest_ dick.

***

Though Harry hadn’t been serious when he told Malfoy that he thought he had him under a spell, sometimes Harry wondered if he did.

He couldn’t get Malfoy out of his head and it was driving him somewhat insane. If Harry wasn’t with Malfoy on a night, then he would be up for hours fantasising about what they could be doing if they were together. When the Order droned on about the same safety procedures that they recommended every day, Harry found himself wishing that he could share heated words with Malfoy and have a conversation that didn’t revolve around Voldemort. And for as good as Malfoy was in bed, all Harry really wanted to do was kiss Malfoy like there was no tomorrow. 

Harry was whipped. 

As Malfoy refused to open up, and as he was very meticulous when it came to hiding any vital Voldemort-related information, the Order had decided that Harry would be better focusing all of his attention on trying to dismantle Viper from the inside. Hermione insisted that Harry try to figure out the brothel first, so that the women who were unwillingly employed there could be rescued. 

Unfortunately, Harry didn’t quite know how to ask about the brothel without it sounding like he wanted to visit it. 

“So what happens if you want a prostitute?” was Harry’s choice of words, and he inwardly cringed afterwards. 

Malfoy stared at him for a moment before smirking, but the expression looked somewhat forced. 

“After a girl to fuck, Potter?” Malfoy asked mockingly. “I thought you were a cock slut.” 

“No! No!” Harry protested quickly, shaking his head and waving his hands, crossing them in front of one another. “I don’t want a prostitute for myself! I was just curious.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Odd thing to be curious about,” he said dryly. 

Harry licked his lips absently as he tried to come up with a plausible reason. 

“I have a friend who’s still a virgin,” he settled on. “He’s getting a bit frustrated at his non-existent sex life, especially considering he could be murdered at any point. I was going to suggest he come in disguise to see one of the girls.” 

“You’re talking about Longbottom, aren’t you?” Malfoy said confidently, though he was very wrong; Harry knew for a fact that Neville and Luna had a very intense sex life - knowledge he had only gained from the fact that the couple didn’t seem to believe in keeping it in the bedroom - literally. 

“I’m not telling you who it is,” Harry dismissed, knowing full well that Malfoy would have settled on the idea that it was Neville. 

“Well your friend needs to come to the club and see Pansy,” Malfoy murmured, walking to get a bottle of chartreuse from his cabinet. “You know, Potter, those girls are far better off in the brothel then they are anywhere else. They’d be tortured and killed if it weren’t for that brothel.” 

“Unless they got away,” Harry pointed out. 

Malfoy laughed bitterly. “They’re bound to Viper now; there’s no getting away.” 

Malfoy refused to say anymore about it, but Harry had the information he needed.

***

It took Hermione just under a week to draw a conclusion from the evidence that Harry had collected.

He had managed to steal one of Malfoy’s earrings a couple of days previously, and that had ultimately been a breakthrough for Hermione. 

“You can feel the Dark magic on this strongly, can’t you?” Hermione enquired, holding the earring up into the light; she had deduced it wasn’t intended to curse. 

Harry nodded. “Not massively,” he shrugged, “but enough that it’s obvious.” 

“See, I can only feel it if I concentrate on it,” Hermione said, tilting her head. “Kingsley was the same.” 

“Maybe I’m just sensitive considering…” Harry trailed off. He had never quite got comfortable calling himself a Horcrux out loud. 

“I think that’s exactly it!” Hermione nodded, looking thoroughly impressed despite the fact Harry hadn’t said anything to be impressed by. “I think the magic on this jewellery, and the other things you’ve mentioned, was put there by Voldemort himself.” 

Harry hummed thoughtfully in agreement. “But if it isn’t designed to curse or cause harm, what’s he done it for?” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, as if she was affronted that Harry had implied she hadn’t researched every possibility thoroughly. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, I think it’s some sort of binding system. Ginny went in disguise to visit the brothel, and she noticed that every woman had a silver bracelet around her wrist. Didn’t you say Malfoy told you that they were bound there?” 

Harry nodded again. “So you think this could be some sort of new system, kind of like an upgrade from the Dark Mark?” Hermione nodded. “How much control do you think Voldemort has using these? I mean, do you think he could make his Death Eaters do his work, even if they didn’t really want to?” 

Hermione pursed her lips. “I would think he may be able to enhance and encourage his followers, but I doubt that this kind of magic would allow him to create thoughts that weren’t already there. He has other methods such as the Imperius Curse to do that with. Why? What are you thinking?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Harry answered quickly. “It’s just that I don’t really understand how Malfoy can be second-in-command; he doesn’t seem the sort.” 

“Because I’m sure Malfoy is prone to openly discussing evil ideas with Order members,” Hermione muttered, and Harry shrugged. 

“I know, but he still doesn’t seem _evil_ , just prejudiced and irritating,” Harry mused. He still hadn’t managed to get his head around the whole Malfoy situation. He could admit to himself that he _liked_ Malfoy, even if he hated what he stood for and what he did. Harry just couldn’t understand _how_ he could like someone who stood for the complete opposite values as he did. 

Hermione nodded understandingly. “Maybe he is being forced into it; I’m not in any position to make that judgement. If you think he can be saved, Harry, then I’ll trust your instinct.” 

“That’s the thing, though; I don’t know!” Harry said hotly. He folded his arms across his chest, drumming his fingers on his arm. “I sort of really like him, but he’s also a massive asshole-” 

“Ron can be, too,” Hermione cut in, “but I still love him.” 

“Ron’s not a Death Eater, though, is he?” Harry retorted. He sighed deeply. “Anyway, I’ll try and come up with a way to get those bracelets off the women in the brothel. Malfoy knows how I feel about that place, so maybe if I’m semi-honest and tell him that I’m coming up with a way to save them, I can really judge his character by seeing if he helps me or not.” 

“Great,” Hermione said. “I’m trying to work out a way to remove the magic on the jewellery. Keep in touch.”

***

Goyle actually nodded at Harry when he walked into Viper the night following his conversation with Hermione.

Malfoy wasn’t expecting him - he normally wrote to Harry to give him a date and time to meet - but Harry meant business tonight. It would be a true test of Malfoy’s character, allowing Harry to decide whether he only liked Malfoy the sex god, or if he liked Malfoy as a person who was willing to turn his back on evil. 

The downside of turning up unexpectedly was that Malfoy was nowhere in sight. Harry ordered a glass of chartreuse while he waited at the bar. He held the glass up to the green, smoky light, marvelling in the way that it seemed to set the bright green liquid aglow. 

“Back again, Potter?” Zabini greeted as he slid onto the stool beside Harry; Parkinson took the other side. “Draco isn’t here.” 

“Where is he?” Harry asked, facing the bar and refusing to look his his new, unwanted companions. 

“Where do you think?” Parkinson muttered, drumming her fingers on the bartop. Each finger was decorated with a ring, each band of silver curled around like a snake and holding on to different coloured jewels. “Our Lord required his services tonight.” 

Harry took a deep gulp of his drink. “Shame, that. I’ll wait.” 

“Salazar, Draco really has made you his bitch, hasn’t he? Sitting here waiting for him like a good little boy,” Parkinson derided. Her incessant finger drumming was started to grate on Harry’s nerves. 

Zabini snorted. “Come now, Pansy; we all know Draco is the bitch. Just because he does the fucking doesn’t mean he’s got the control.” 

“What are you even on about, Zabini?” Harry snarled. He downed the rest of his drink; Malfoy’s friends made Malfoy look polite. 

“What I’m saying, Potter,” Zabini answered, grabbing Harry’s chin and forcing his head around to look at him, “is that Malfoy has wanted you for years, and now he’s got you he doesn’t quite know what to do. Didn’t I warn you right at the start that you’d be taken advantage of here?” 

Harry slapped Zabini’s hand away. “I’m not afraid of Malfoy.” 

Zabini and Parkinson exchanged a glance and a smirk. 

“Well lucky you, Potter,” Parkinson smiled coldly. “Look who’s just got back.” 

Zabini and Parkinson vacated their seats quickly, and only moments later Malfoy appeared with a blank expression on his face. 

“I didn’t expect you tonight,” Malfoy greeted, gesturing for a shot from the bar. He drowned the drink in one, slamming the glass down on the bartop. 

“I need to talk to you,” Harry said. “Can we go somewhere more private?” 

Malfoy nodded, and jerked his head, gesturing for Harry to follow him. 

Malfoy led him to the back room and through a door that Harry hadn’t gone through before. It led to a piercing and tattoo studio, with a reclining leather chair in the middle of the room, and equipment fastened to the walls. 

Harry reached out to touch a wall, and shut his eyes against the onslaught of Dark magic that flowed against his skin. 

“What has he done to all of this?” Harry asked slowly, opening his eyes and finding Malfoy’s face inches away from his. 

Malfoy didn’t answer him, and instead closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Harry’s. 

“I’m sorry, Potter,” Malfoy murmured as he pulled back. His hand cupped Harry’s cheek, his thumb rubbing circles on Harry’s skin. 

“For what?” Harry’s hand slipped into his pocket, curling around his wand. 

“I want you so much,” Malfoy breathed, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “I can’t let you go; you’re mine.” 

Then pain erupted in Harry’s forehead, blinding and agonising. That was all Harry knew before his world went black.

***

When Harry awoke the pain in his forehead was still there, constant and throbbing, and it was coupled with a sharp pain in his arm.

Harry dropped his head to the side, realising that he was bound on the leather recliner. His right arm was raised, and Malfoy was drawing on Harry’s skin with his wand, marking him with ink. 

He would have snapped at Malfoy, had cold, spindly fingers not crept across his forehead. 

Harry bit his lip as the pain in his head became so much that it made him want to scream out, but Harry wouldn’t give Voldemort the satisfaction. 

“Are you nearly done, Draco?” Voldemort asked coldly, drumming his fingers lightly on Harry’s head. “You should know by now that I am not a patient man.” 

“I’m almost done,” Malfoy said, and Harry didn’t know how Malfoy could tell, because all Harry could see was a smear of black ink and blood. 

“Fuck you,” Harry snarled, finally finding his voice. “Fuck both of you. Assholes!” 

“Now, now, Harry; is there any need for language like that?” Voldemort mocked, trailing his fingers down Harry’s face to cup his cheek. Harry winced when long nails cut into his skin. “You disgust me, boy, you truly do. So blindingly loving and trustful; just like your precious hero Dumbledore it’s gotten you nowhere. You only have yourself to blame for this, Potter.” 

“And what is _this_?” Harry cried, flexing his hands into tight fists. “You give me a little tattoo and then what? Are you going to kill me, Tom?” 

Malfoy didn’t bother to hold in his surprised gasp. Harry was even more surprised when Voldemort laughed humourlessly. 

“I was under the impression that you and the Order had everything figured out,” Voldemort stated, flicking his red-eyed gaze to Draco briefly. “The jewellery, yes, has Binding properties, amongst other things, however the tattoos truly hold the power, given that they are impossible to remove. Different designs have different meanings; yours, for example…” 

Voldemort waved his wand, and the ink stain on Harry’s arm washed away, revealing a black dragon tattoo underneath. 

“Means you are going to be bound to a dragon,” Voldemort finished. 

“What do you mean I’m being bound to a-?” Harry trailed off as his eyes met Malfoy’s. “A dragon,” he finished simply. Malfoy had told Harry only moments earlier that he wanted Harry for his own; Harry had been played. 

“It shames me that Draco has allowed his heart and foolish emotions to cloud his judgement,” Voldemort said, stepping away from Harry at last. “However, he has served me well and I reward my loyal followers when they deserve it. Besides,” Voldemort added, and Harry could tell from the way his voice had dropped and the way his ‘s’ sound rolled, that he was speaking in Parseltongue. “Who better can I trust to keep you safe, my precious Horcrux. Draco; ensure that he never speaks of this to anyone outside of this room.” 

Malfoy nodded, and pressed his wand to the bottom of Harry’s lower lip. There was a flash of silver, and a shooting pain burst through Harry’s mouth, followed by a feeling of a weight on his lip. Malfoy prodded the - what Harry presumed was a ring - and nodded in satisfaction. 

Voldemort seemed pleased, too, and he fixed Harry with a cold smile before Disapparating. 

“You’re an asshole and I hate you,” Harry hissed. All that time he had been spying on Malfoy, and growing to like him, only for Malfoy to have been tricking him all along. 

“I’m second-in-command for a reason,” Malfoy answered with a shrug, leaning in and licking Harry’s sensitive lower lip. “I get what I want, and what I wanted this time was you.” 

“So what? I’m _bound_ to you now? What does that even mean?” Harry snarled, struggling against his bonds but to no avail. 

“You have no freedom outside of me, now,” Malfoy explained, Summoning two glasses and a bottle of chartreuse. “You cannot hex me or cause me harm, and if I give you a direct order you are compelled to obey.” 

“I’ll fight you,” Harry said defiantly. “I’m not going to be easy.” 

Malfoy had the audacity to smirk. “That’s why I wanted you. The first time I saw you in Viper, I was instantly suspicious but I gave you the benefit of the doubt - mainly because I wanted to fuck you. But you were never as subtle as you thought you were, and I saw right through your game. When you stole that earring from me I knew you were close to discovering the truth, so I made arrangements with the Dark Lord to keep you; I knew it wouldn’t be long until I lost you, otherwise, and I couldn’t let that happen.” 

“You could have had me,” Harry muttered, looking up at Malfoy pleadingly. “You could have come with me to the Order, become good; I _was_ falling for you. We could still do it; we could leave now, before Voldemort suspects a thing.” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Malfoy said, pointing to his Dark Mark. “I’m not covered in tattoos for simple fashion, you know. And it’s no matter that I’ve hurt you and lost your trust; I _will_ make you love me again.” 

Malfoy leant down, kissing Harry slowly and possessively, and Harry let him. 

He could fall in love with Malfoy, and become the perfect Bound lover that Malfoy desired. And then, when Malfoy least expected it, Harry could take down the Inner Circle from the middle of it. All was not lost. 

Harry started to kiss Malfoy back, feigning uncertainty. Malfoy bit down on Harry’s sore lip, brushing his tongue against the ring there. 

“Well while I’m tied here,” Harry murmured after Malfoy pulled back breathlessly, “why don’t you remind me what made me fall for you in the first place?”

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/294575.html). Comments are ♥.


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